Two Hearts as One - An Alternate Ending
by GotaBingley
Summary: An alternate ending to the story "Two Hearts as One". Margaret and Mr. Thornton's relationship has taken a new turn as events in Milton have unfolded. But does this change her actions when her brother appears? (Story begins at chapter 18 of the original story.)
1. Riding Out the Storm

**A/N:** As you may have judged by the title, this is an alternate ending to my story _Two Hearts as One_. As I was posting that story and reading various reviews and re-thinking my original direction, I felt the need and desire to write this alternate ending, mainly to have a situation where we were all spared so much angst, which I did not shy away from in the original story. So no matter if you are familiar or unfamiliar with the original story, I would highly recommend you go back and read the first seventeen chapters (to either acquaint or _re_-acquaint yourself with it - in fact, if you didn't read the original story, you will be totally lost reading this). This is the equivalent of chapter 18, and the first third of it or so is the same. For those of you faithful readers who read the original story when I first posted it several months ago, I'm sorry for making you wait so long for this alternate version of events in my already-alternate universe. Life got in the way and I was having a hard time motivating myself to finish this. Please forgive me. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Frederick's presence in the house was a much-needed breath of fresh air. Aside from the joy they all felt at seeing one another after a long absence, he immediately set to making himself useful, his merry spirit infectious as he engaged his father in conversation and helped his sister with various tasks. He would hardly sit still, so eager was he to please his family whom he had not seen for so long. It was too late for him to see his mother the evening he arrived, but he spoke of his anticipated meeting with her with so much vigor, Margaret could not help feeling that his energy would somehow transfer to Mrs. Hale and make her well.

For her own part, Margaret was happy to find a sympathetic brother who only remembered, or professed to remember, the fond times they had shared so long ago in childhood. His solicitude and acts of kindness gave her much relief, and she looked forward to a lessening of her own burdens, as it was clear he was determined to take upon himself some of the cares she had carried. She could almost forget his danger in how happy he was to see them.

The next morning, however, brought back the old fears. Frederick's energy was tempered at the sight of his mother, and the change in him reminded Margaret that all was not well for them. While he sat quietly with Mrs. Hale for many hours, Margaret fretted over every strange and familiar noise. Dixon was true to her word and guarded the front door carefully, but Margaret worried perpetually that Frederick would still somehow be discovered.

Mrs. Hale was able to rouse herself a little when she awoke to find her son at her side. But it did not last long, frail and weak as she was. She said very little, and she smiled feebly. But at least she had this comfort; he was there, and she could depart the world knowing the man her child had become. This small consolation relieved much of her fidgetings for some time and gave Frederick a false hope that she could recover.

Margaret knew this hope well, but she also knew it could not be realized, which was confirmed to her by Dr. Donaldson when he made his visit.

"I am afraid, Miss Hale, that this state of tranquility will not endure for many days, nor even many hours. You will have to prepare yourself."

Margaret had already been prepared for many days, and she only squared her shoulders in response to his kindly instruction. The serenity and strength in her expression impressed to the good doctor once more of the remarkable young woman who carried this family. She thanked him for his visit and saw him out quietly.

Frederick had been concealed in his room during Dr. Donaldson's visit, and this precaution in conjunction with the doctor's words was enough to subdue all remaining cheer. Anxiety and fear combined with grief as the hours passed, as Mrs. Hale slowly became less and less sensible of her son's presence. Her family gathered around her as she slipped into unconsciousness, but she did not know it.

Before the next morning came, she was gone.

* * *

Frederick's collapse into anguish rivalled that of Mr. Hale's, so much so that any hopes Margaret had cherished of his help were done away instantly. Neither were to be consoled, which left her once again with the task of looking after her family. Thankfully Dixon had borne herself up tolerably, so Margaret was not entirely deserted in the wake of her mother's death, but even the faithful servant did not allow her much time to mourn. Dixon's kind words only reminded Margaret of her responsibilities and the arrangements to be made.

But how she longed for some time to give way to her own sorrow. Her father and brother were broken and allowed to remain in such a state, and she felt constricted by being forced to put her feelings aside. What good would even a half-hour's relief do for her! She yearned for such release, and it was now she wanted Mr. Thornton more than ever. His comforting strength and sympathy had been given to her so freely when she cried for Bessy; how much more did she need that strength now? He would not remind her of any duties, but let her weep; he would be the one to take on her burden of care. How she wanted him!

But he could not come to her now. With Frederick's arrival, she had been understandably diverted from her decision to confess her feelings to her father, occupied as she was by Frederick's presence and now by all the duties she had to perform. It would only be selfish of her to force her confession upon her father while he grieved, so there was no hope of being able to divulge their secret to Mr. Thornton. And the more time that passed from her desperate resolution, the more she lost her nerve. Perhaps to tell Mr. Thornton of Frederick would be foolish, after all. She had not given the idea enough thought. And now she was simply too busy to devote any time to the idea, to decide once and for all what was the right course to take.

In any case, no matter what she felt, she knew she had little right to distract her father, so they had to continue concealing her brother. Frederick's violent cries were hard enough to disguise from the next-door neighbors, who may hear him through the thin walls. If Mr. Thornton were to enter the house, it would be impossible to hide Frederick in his crazed state. Margaret must remain alone until he took hold of himself. No one could be allowed in the house until then.

Mr. Hale's grief was not loud or violent, but silent and withdrawn. Margaret made many attempts to speak to him about funeral arrangements, but he would only reply with a shake of his head. It was only as she was leaving the room that he muttered, "Mr. Bell . . . my groomsman . . . he will make arrangements." So writing to Mr. Bell was added to the business Margaret had to attend to.

It was not until the next day that Frederick was able to rouse himself at all. Margaret was relieved that he had recovered enough to at least _want_ to be of use to her, but she was so worn and exhausted, she found she could care little. She had put herself through so much work and toil with little regard to her own melancholy in the last twenty-four hours, that his sympathetic attendance on her felt too late. But she would take advantage of his half-renewed energy so she could rest. Any sleep she had tried the previous night had done nothing to give her any refreshment, and she soon fell asleep on the sofa after he had persuaded her to put her feet up.

She was awakened by the sound of the door-bell. A glance at the clock informed her that she had not closed her eyes more than half an hour previous, and her first feeling was one of disappointment at not being able to rest longer. However, she was also curious about who may be calling at such a time; any shop people or other tradesmen they did business with came much earlier in the morning, and Mary would not have come to the front door if summoned. Margaret groggily moved to the window to see if she could glimpse who stood at their door before Dixon sent them away. Her view was awkward and slightly obstructed, but she quickly snapped into alertness at recognizing a familiar figure.

No matter the pain Margaret had been enduring the last few days, her heart leapt at seeing even a little of him. She immediately moved away from the window as she heard Dixon open the door. She did not wait to hear what inquiries he made or any answer Dixon gave him before she reached the landing and called, "Please show Mr. Thornton into the study, Dixon. I will fetch Father."

He was still mainly hidden from her view as he had not entered the house, but Margaret could see Dixon clearly. Indeed, her expression would have been difficult for anyone to miss, for she turned to give Margaret a forbidding and incredulous glare at such a request. Margaret was sure she was confounded by the risk Margaret was taking by allowing Mr. Thornton in the house, but Margaret was in no mood to turn him away. Her father must be glad of his company, and she was longing to see him.

Before Dixon could make any veiled objections to her order, Margaret turned and sped to her mother's room, where Mr. Hale sat in silent and lonely vigil. It was only as she entered the hallowed space that she slowed her movements and forced her voice to be calm and quiet. "Father?" she touched his shoulder delicately. He barely turned his head, but his audible intake of breath was enough to acknowledge her. "Mr. Thornton is downstairs. I'm sure he wishes to see you."

Mr. Hale now looked up. "Oh, Margaret, I do not know if I can see him. Or anybody."

"Please, Father," she remonstrated gently. "He is your friend, and I know he would wish to pay his respects to you. He was so kind to Mama, you know. Please go down and speak to him. His company will do you good, I'm sure."

She was relieved that he gave no further protest to her urgings, for she was sure she could not keep herself composed for much longer, a desperate scheme mounting in her mind. Her father rose languidly from his chair and briefly touched his dead wife's hand. The gesture sobered Margaret's growing anxiety, and she followed his example before they both left the room. Her father moved slowly, grief and remorse taking their toll on his weak spirit, and Margaret was obliged to support him with her arm as they walked down the stairs.

"He cannot stay long," Mr. Hale murmured as they neared the bottom. "Frederick should not have to stay hidden. I hope his visit is short."

Margaret did not share in this hope, and her anxiety only increased at her father's words and the sight of Dixon outside the study door. Her displeasure was obvious, but Margaret did not bother steeling herself against a good scolding, sure she would not be able to attend to any reproofs Dixon was preparing. She was too preoccupied by the rash impulse she was giving way to. She let go of her father's arm when they reached the door, letting him go in alone. As much as she wanted to see Mr. Thornton, she needed to do one more thing before seeing him.

Ignoring Dixon's hiss of "What are you doing, Miss Margaret?" she strode to her brother's bedroom door. No doubt he had retreated there at the sound of the bell. She knocked quickly, fearful that she would lose her nerve if she slowed down for even a moment. She heard Dixon behind her, still hissing in alarm, sure as she must be that the young miss had lost her head. Frederick soon opened the door and gave her a sincere if confused smile.

"What is it, Margaret? I thought I heard the bell. Is it already safe for me to emerge from my cave?" His joking manner did little to relieve Margaret's agitated state, but she replied, "Yes, all is safe, Fred. Will you come with me to see Father? He's in the study."

Dixon gasped behind her, but Margaret would not look at her as she resolutely took hold of Frederick's hand. It did not even register in her mind that he had given no answer to her question before pulling him along the hall. Dixon whispered fierce objections, hoping to penetrate Margaret's feigned deafness, and Frederick became increasingly confused and hesitant. Fortunately for Margaret, the walk down the hall was short and they were soon at the study door.

Suddenly, everything was happening at once. Understanding dawned on Frederick as he finally deciphered Dixon's flurried whispers and heard another man's voice in the study. "Margaret, what are you doing?" he protested as Margaret reached for the handle. Dixon lunged for Margaret's wrist as she pushed the door open, hoping to halt her action, but it was too late. The light from the room streamed into the hall, and now Frederick tried to pull out of Margaret's grip and escape, but her hold was like a vice, and he was soon exposed to view. Mr. Hale jumped out of his chair, exclaiming, "Margaret! What have you done?" Dixon turned away, her head in her hands, ashamed and astounded at Margaret's betrayal. But Margaret, despite the hold she had on her brother, kept her eyes fixed on the man who was now rising from his chair, confusion marring his brow, slight suspicion and wonder creeping into his eyes at the sight of a stranger behind her.

In the commotion of Frederick's struggle and Mr. Hale's exclamation, Margaret had not been able to speak. But as Frederick attempted to wrench himself out of her grip, pulling her backward and asking what she was thinking, she begged insistently, "No, Fred, please! Please listen!" She took hold of him with her other hand to force him to stay. "It is all right! Please!"

"No, it is not all right!" he declared angrily. Mr. Hale was still spluttering in fright and Dixon now joined in the battle to disengage Margaret's hand from Frederick. Mr. Thornton stepped closer, wanting to assist her but completely ignorant of how to do so.

Finally she cried out, giving one last forceful tug, "Fred, this is Mr. Thornton."

Somehow her simple words silenced all. Frederick ceased his struggles and Dixon fell back nearly in a swoon. Mr. Hale stood stock-still, a brief terror engulfing his previous grief. Margaret relaxed her grip and dropped her hands to her sides, looking back and forth among these men she loved. There was everything to say, but with such a wild beginning, how would she find the words? She cast her gaze onto Mr. Thornton, who seemed to pierce her with his eyes, full of question and confusion. She could only hope he saw her pure intentions as she faced Mr. Hale.

"I am sorry, Father. I did not mean to cause such a scene." Mr. Hale still looked at her with his shocked expression, his silence effectively berating her for such a foolish act. "I know what we agreed to do. I know I promised. But . . ." she gathered her strength. "Mr. Thornton has proved himself a loyal friend to us many times over. He deserves our trust." She paused. "He deserves to know about Fred."

Still silence, but Mr. Hale's expression was finally not so rigid. Margaret hoped that he remembered his initial pleasure at the idea of confiding in Mr. Thornton. Perhaps he would forgive her impetuous action. She turned back to Frederick, who still lingered in the doorway. "I _want_ him to know."

His anger had lessened, as well, to a sort of frustrated wariness. He looked a little closer at Mr. Thornton, who alone had remained silent, but who was entirely perplexed. Margaret did not follow Frederick's gaze, but turned back to her father, ready to plead her case more fully. But his next words rendered her unspoken entreaty unnecessary.

"You may as well come in, Fred. We have gone too far now for concealment. Which was no doubt your aim, Margaret," he said mildly, but a little wearily. Frederick stepped further into the study, leaving the door open behind him, as though still wanting a means of escape.

"John," Mr. Hale continued once Frederick had come closer. "Allow me to introduce Frederick Hale. My son."

Whatever Mr. Thornton had been expecting, this was not it. He had been ready to extend his hand, but dropped it at Mr. Hale's final words. "_My son_." He was thunderstruck at such a revelation. Now it was his turn to look back and forth among the family, not entirely sure they weren't playing him for a fool. For why wouldn't Mr. Hale tell him he had a son? Why wouldn't Margaret tell him she had a brother? But any skepticism on his part was done away at Margaret's look, a pleading half-smile on her lips as she silently asked him to believe it. He was no less astounded, however.

"Your son?" he finally asked. "I . . . I am . . . astonished!" This word was simply not enough to fully express his shock.

The deed done, Frederick stepped forward in determination. "It is true, Mr. Thornton. Under normal circumstances, I would not hesitate to say I am glad to make your acquaintance, but these are not normal circumstances. In fact, they are most odd." At this, he cast an accusing glare at his sister, but she did not flinch. "However," he said, turning back to Mr. Thornton, "if my sister vouches for your loyalty and friendship, I suppose you may be trusted. And if that is the case, I _am_ glad to know you." He stuck out his hand rather awkwardly, but Mr. Thornton was quick to take it.

"I am glad to know you, as well, Mr. Hale. But I must confess my confusion. I had no idea of your existence until this moment."

"I imagine so. My family has found it prudent to not speak of me since –"

"Oh, please, may we not go up to drawing room?" Margaret interjected. "Then perhaps we may all sit and try to be comfortable?"

"Yes, yes," Mr. Hale agreed, eager for the tension to dissipate and a pause to help them dissemble. "Let us go there, and then we may explain ourselves." He moved from his chair with alacrity, an example they all followed. Mr. Thornton could not help overhearing Frederick whisper to Margaret, "I certainly hope you know what you're doing." She dropped her head at this remark, but she used the opportunity to look back and give Mr. Thornton a smile. He returned it readily, reassured by her look that although he was all bewilderment now, that would not last much longer.

Dixon had been hovering at the door during the whole exchange, and as they all moved to the stairs, she took Margaret's arm firmly and held her back. "I hope you are happy, Miss," she spoke low and disapproving. "Not only have you unthinkingly put Master Frederick in danger, you have put the whole house in uproar all while the mistress lies upstairs!"

Margaret did not quail, but only stood the straighter. "I am sorry, Dixon, for disturbing the peace of the house. I promise it will not happen again. But I did what I thought right, and I ask you not to question me or my actions. Now if you would bring us some tea, I'm sure that would be most helpful in restoring some tranquility."

She bore herself away imperiously, leaving Dixon wondering in her wake. She made a note to herself to give Dixon a more sincere apology later, for she knew Dixon only had the family's best interests to heart. She had not intended to upset the house in such a fashion, and she did regret that she had caused such tumult, especially in light of her mother's body lying upstairs. However, she could not regret that Mr. Thornton would now know the truth, that she would not be forced to lie to him. She certainly could not profess her love to him in the presence of her father and brother, but she was that much closer to confessing all.


	2. Family Matters

Mr. Thornton's astonishment only grew as the Hales explained to him their reasons for concealing Frederick. In such a situation, he could not blame them for their secrecy, for Frederick Hale's presence in the country was a great risk. He was lucky to have not excited suspicion thus far; it could only be hoped such luck would hold. Knowing the danger he and his family were in, Mr. Thornton's appreciation and admiration for Margaret increased. She had gone against her family's wishes, all so he could know about her brother. She put her faith and trust in him. How much greater and stronger was his resolve to not fail in light of her actions.

She had been only slightly delayed in entering the drawing room, and he could very well guess why. He had not looked closely at Dixon as he passed her, but one did not have to be a keen observer to see that she looked thunderous. He could well imagine the indignant words she would use on Margaret, but he also knew that Margaret would be able to withstand her. Sure enough, Margaret's face was serene when she appeared, and she gave him another soft smile as she sat.

The narrative had been chiefly conducted by Frederick, and that being concluded, Mr. Thornton felt it necessary to speak. "I can understand your reluctance to confide in anybody your presence here, Mr. Hale, but I assure you that your family's faith in me is well-founded. I would not willingly injure them, and I give you my word you are safe as far as I am concerned."

"Thank you. I hope you will forgive me if I admit I am still unsure of you," Frederick responded candidly. "I know nothing of you or what your word means. I can only rely on what my family believes."

"Mr. Thornton is truly a man of his word, Fred," Margaret spoke up, a dangerous flash in her eyes. "He is an honorable man and would never speak falsely. It is not what we merely believe; it is what we _know_. If he says you are safe with him, it is so. If you do not trust his word, trust mine. He is a kind friend to us, and will not betray you. You should not doubt him."

Mr. Hale corroborated his daughter's defense, though not so zealously. Mr. Thornton, however, did not hear whatever it was he said, his breast alight with fiery pleasure that Margaret would speak for him so passionately. A smile came to his lips that he could not banish as he said, "I assure you that your sister speaks the truth about me. I would not lie to any man, and I have no reason to lie to you, Mr. Hale. You yourself give me no pause, and I respect your family too much to dishonor their trust by giving you up."

Frederick Hale seemed to only scrutinize him further, still looking for any hint of duplicity, but apparently he did not find it. He sighed and relaxed into his chair. "Very well, Mr. Thornton. I believe you. And even if I did not, I have a feeling my sister would strike me into what she must see as sense." He paused. "But maybe she would not dare at such a time, considering what has brought me here."

It was only now that the tension of Frederick's discovery had gone, that they were reminded of the sorrowful event that drew them together. Having had little chance to give his condolences before Margaret had thrust her brother upon him, Mr. Thornton now expressed fully his sympathy to the Hales. Mr. Hale's despondency returned, and Mr. Thornton felt called upon to move closer and engage him in more personal conversation, rather than speaking to the family in general. As he did so, however, he stole a few glances in Margaret's direction. She at least had a brother to help her, but he was just as desirous as ever to give her his comfort and strength, as he had when she cried over her friend.

She spoke quietly with her brother, and Mr. Thornton now saw the traces of lines under her eyes and a heaviness to her eyelids, evidence of the little rest she must have had lately. Now the memory of her mother's body had returned, she looked overburdened and forlorn, despite the smiles she gave her brother. Did her family know of all she suffered in this bitter loss? Or was she called upon once more to be the comforter when she was in need of it herself? He suspected that she had been given more to bear than she reasonably should, and he hoped and wished for an opportunity to take her burden away, to grant her some relief and comfort, and to cradle her in his love.

The story of Frederick Hale had taken up so much unexpected time, that Mr. Thornton was obliged to leave much sooner in the midst of his conversation with Mr. Hale than he had previously foreseen. But he needed to return to Marlborough Mills, so he rose from his chair reluctantly, but with a promise to soon return.

"Yes, please do, John," Mr. Hale urged. "Especially as you now know about Frederick, you are most welcome. We could not risk having visitors before, but now that Margaret . . ." he trailed off, shaking his head in wonder at his daughter's behavior. "Well, however it happened, you know. And any time you can spare would be a comfort." His voice began to quake and tremble, and Mr. Thornton gently took his hand and quietly offered what sympathy and services he could.

With Frederick Hale, he only exchanged a nod and a courteous handshake, but Margaret did not appear to be content with similar brevity of farewell. She offered to see him to the door, a pleasure he was not likely to forego.

As they walked down the stairs, she spoke quietly. "I apologize for springing Fred on you so awkwardly, but I felt I must seize what little chance I had. I knew you were here, and I had to act quickly."

"I understand," he assured her when they reached the door. "Especially if you agreed to keep him secret, there could not have been a way to reveal him that would _not_ have been awkward."

She smiled. "That is true. But I wanted you to know. I did not want to lie to you."

"If you had kept him secret, I would perhaps have understood."

"Perhaps. But I did not want to take the chance. I did not want to put you in such a position."

Once more, evidence of her weariness and toil was obvious to him. He stepped closer to her and took her hand tenderly. "Margaret," he whispered. "Is there anything I may do for you? Anything at all? I do not want you to suffer alone."

Her eyes filled with tears at his sudden consideration. Was this not precisely what she had been craving? And had she not guessed that he would be the one to sustain her? "I am not entirely alone," she managed, a tear escaping down her cheek.

He was quick to catch it with his thumb, and kept his hand in place, caressing her face. "No, but you must remember that there is one who asks nothing from you, who only wants to give you comfort. Whatever I can do, I will."

The desire to enfold herself in his arms was overwhelming, but they were not truly alone as yet. Dixon could come bustling out of the kitchen now, or Frederick could appear at the landing any moment. Another time would have to suffice. For now, she brought her hand to his.

"Just come again soon," she said simply. "Quickly."

He nodded. "Tonight. I promise."

Too soon he was gone, but Margaret's hand still felt the lingering warmth of his lips long after he had left.

* * *

Peace having been restored to the house, Mr. Hale returned to his wife's side, seeking strength from the holy words he knew so well. Margaret sought out Dixon, her farewell from Mr. Thornton having increased her charity, and offered a penitent apology that did much to alleviate Dixon's indignation. She had not dared to leave the house while Mr. Thornton remained, curious as she was of how he would accept such a tale. She also was in need of reassurance that the rest of the family was not overtaxed by Margaret's decision, and she was comforted when Frederick appeared to give her the assurance she required.

"Well, I suppose the damage is done, and there is no sense regretting what might have been, but I will never understand what possessed you to do such a thing, Miss," she declared, bustling her way out of the kitchen. No matter how trustworthy Mr. Thornton may be, she would not budge from her perch at the front door. She did not want to take any chances that Miss Margaret would extend her new-found openness to anybody else who might call. As Miss Margaret herself said, Dixon was determined to keep the door like a dragon.

Frederick followed Margaret up the stairs silently, a pensive and thoughtful purse on his lips. What had possessed Margaret, indeed? If her rash behavior was not already enough to excite suspicion, her passionate defense of Mr. Thornton was enough to make Frederick think there was more to the man than Margaret was letting on. She was settling herself into a chair when he spoke.

"Well, Margaret, I find myself wondering the same thing as Dixon." She looked up straightaway, her eyebrows knit in confusion. "Meaning what possessed you to reveal me to Mr. Thornton. I cannot account for it. What makes him so different from any other acquaintance?"

His needling words were to great effect. She blushed deeply and averted her eyes. "He is a kind friend, Fred, and has been very good to us."

"Yes, so you said," he said airily. "And is that all he is? A kind friend?"

Margaret could not pretend to misunderstand her brother's insinuations, and from the heat she felt in her cheeks and neck, she was sure her red face gave her away. There was no point in denying her feelings, and after all, honesty was a quality she was forcing upon herself today.

"No, Fred, that is not all he is. Not to me, anyway," she admitted quietly.

"I thought not." He took the chair next to her, clearly desirous of continuing the subject. "And how long has this been going on?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "Fred, really."

"Well, why not? I told you about Dolores; why not speak to me about Mr. Thornton?"

She hesitated. "It is different for you. You and Dolores are engaged, plans are in motion. You have even converted! Mr. Thornton and I are not . . . we have no such formal understanding as yet."

"And that is why I've never heard of him before this morning, is it?"

"Father never mentioned him in any letters? He is very fond of him." This did truly confuse her.

"Not that I can recall, but Father's letters have not been so prolific since you came to Milton. Likely he has been afraid to remind me of his dissenting and of the upheaval he put you and Mother through. Not that his dissenting matters now, what with my being in Spain and taking on another religion myself."

She nodded in assent.

"But never mind that now. You say you have no formal understanding with Mr. Thornton, but you took the risk of letting him know about me. You must expect something, and soon, or you would not have done such a thing. You must feel strongly for him."

Her flush returned, but she could not hide a smile. "Yes, I do. I do expect that we will be . . . engaged . . . soon." She paused over the tender word, unused as she was to speaking openly of the subject. "But I have not been able yet to tell him. What with Mama and your coming."

"You need to tell him?" Frederick sat back. "Are you going to be the one to propose, then?"

She laughed softly. "No, Fred, no. Mr. Thornton . . . has already declared himself. He proposed some time ago," she admitted shyly.

Frederick shot forward. "What? When?"

"Several weeks ago."

"And you gave him no answer then?" he asked incredulously. "Poor man. He's been waiting for your word for several weeks?"

"I was unsure of myself, Fred!" How quickly his sympathy was given to a near stranger rather than her. "Would you have me marry a man I did not love?"

"There is no need for you to get snippy with me, Margaret," he placated. "I just could not imagine how much of a torture it would have been for me to wait several weeks for Dolores's answer."

"Well, she probably knew right away she loved you," she replied, only a little mollified.

"But you love Mr. Thornton now, don't you?" he asked softly, a smirk on his face. "You are sure."

"Yes, I am. I do love him, Fred. I know that now. He is a good man, and I think you would like him if given the chance. He is different from us, not so cheerful or openly friendly, but he is true and sincere. He –"

Frederick held up a hand to stop her. "Please, Margaret, you do not need to name all of his worthy qualities. I am sure I will have a little chance to know him before I leave. I only wish you had such a chance with Dolores."

"Perhaps some day we will meet," Margaret said hopefully.

"Yes." He smiled mischievously. "Your Mr. Thornton will have to bring you over to Cadiz." His purpose was accomplished; she blushed again. "At least now I understand better why you exposed me to him. I'm not sure I would have forgiven you if your behavior was for only a kind friend."

* * *

Mr. Thornton resumed his work like a man possessed. He had only expected to visit the Hales once today, and planned to dedicate extra time to the mill to make up for his absence. But with his promise to Margaret, he was eager to finish his various duties quickly so he could get back to her as soon as possible. He was so absorbed in his work he did not notice his mother entering the office. She had to clear her throat rather forcefully to distract him from the papers in front of him.

"Mother!" he said in some surprise. "Forgive me; I did not see you come in."

"I gathered that," she said drily. "I saw you had returned. How are the Hales faring?"

"As well as can be expected. Mr. Hale is very low, of course. Mar- Miss Hale bears up better than likely."

Mrs. Thornton was not ignorant of the habit her son had fallen into of referring to Miss Hale by her first name; however, she was growing weary of his constant correction of how he referred to her. Of course, it would not be at all proper for him to openly call her "Margaret", but the stutter only served as a reminder to Mrs. Thornton that her son was still awaiting _any_ answer from the girl. She sniffed at the habit and went on. "I suppose she has been prepared for some time for this."

"Yes. But that is not to say she does not suffer. She bears up for her father's sake," he responded shortly. He would need to be careful to not say too much, for fear he might give something away of her brother.

"It is regrettable that she has so few relations and friends to help her," Mrs. Thornton said in a brief burst of sympathy.

"Yes. That is why I will return there tonight."

Her sympathy vanished in her surprise. "Tonight! John, you have no need to put yourself out so, and the Hales must have some privacy."

He sighed. "Mother, I gave my word. To both Mr. and Miss Hale. They expect me. I want to do what I can for them. I do not want to leave them alone."

"You mean you do not want to leave _her_ alone," she muttered.

No matter how low she spoke, he heard her clearly, and bristled at the remark. "And what is surprising about that? I have told you already of my feelings for her. Why should I not wish to console her?"

She gave him a hard look. "I am only concerned for you, John. I know that you think her worthy, but I question why she gives you no answer. How much longer will she keep you like a puppet on a string?"

He fought for control. "I am no puppet, Mother. I would not allow myself to be, and she does not play such a game with me. I will wait as long as is necessary for her. You still give her far too little credit."

"Perhaps so, but I cannot see how I can give her more. I hardly know her."

"Then maybe it would do you both good for you to visit her," he said hastily. "You can know her better, and she will not be so alone and friendless at this difficult time."

"You cannot be serious, John!" she exclaimed, taken aback at such a suggestion.

He stood quickly. "And why should I not be? She does need kindness from her neighbors, and you are as suitable as any woman in Milton to condole with her. More so than any other woman, even! I will marry Margaret, no matter when she does accept me, and you may as well accept it and make an effort to know her. She deserves that chance from you, Mother, and I am tired of arguing with you about her." He did not raise his voice, but his firm determination was enough to cow even Mrs. Thornton. She said nothing as he excused himself and left the office.


	3. Delicious Truth

True to his word, Mr. Thornton did return to the Hales' that evening. It was a little later than he would have liked, but he did not think he was so late as to merit the forbidding glare Dixon gave him when she opened the door. She clearly had not forgiven him for not being blind and deaf when Margaret had thrust her brother into the study. He tried to keep his voice mild and face impassive, however, as he asked if the family were within. He would not allow her to rattle him as she reluctantly opened the door wider.

Before he had stepped very far into the foyer, Margaret's voice floated down from above for the second time that day, only now she addressed him rather than Dixon. "Good evening, Mr. Thornton." He looked up to find her on the landing. "Please come up," she beckoned. His heart filled with pleasure at the sight of her, the thought that she had been waiting for him bringing a smile to his face.

Instead of waiting for him at the top of the stairs, she came down to meet him halfway. In the dim light, he could see her bright eyes and soft smile, and he was eager and quick to take her warm hand in his. It had been only a few hours since they had parted, and yet it seemed a lifetime ago he had last beheld her. He murmured a greeting that only she could hear, and they lingered on the step until a cough from below brought them back to the world. Dixon had not left her post nor had she ceased to keep her hawk's eye on Mr. Thornton.

Margaret directed him up the stairs while she, to his surprise, descended. He walked slowly in order to hear the hushed conversation she had with Dixon, but he was unsuccessful in hearing anything more than a few snatched, undecipherable words. She was still engaged with Dixon when he reached the landing, so he entered the drawing room alone.

Both Mr. Hale and his son rose to greet him, although the younger stayed his ground while the elder came forward gladly to shake his hand. "I hardly thought you would come again so soon, John. I am very happy you have."

Taking a seat, he looked over to Frederick Hale to see that scrutinizing look on his face again. However, the younger Mr. Hale's expression did not bespeak hostility or suspicion, but curiosity. He did not know what to make of it, but was prevented on giving the matter further thought by the appearance of Margaret. She sat herself on the couch next to her brother and took up her work.

"Have you persuaded Dixon to move at last, Margaret?" Frederick asked cheerfully.

"I do hope you have," Mr. Hale chimed in. "I daresay she has not left the door all day. She must be quite worn out."

"Yes, she is. I managed to convince her that we would have no other callers this late. She has gone to bed."

She spoke simply, but he suspected that persuading Dixon to abandon the door had been anything but simple. He was glad, however, to know that he would not be subjected again to her ominous presence this evening. He was rather ashamed to admit it, but Dixon still had a stern power to make him feel like a truant schoolboy. In that regard, at least, nothing had changed since the night he and Margaret had finally begun to speak like friends. He glanced at Margaret to find her eyes glittering in amusement at him, obviously noting his relief. So she was still able to see his fear of Dixon! How would he ever be able to live this down?

Frederick suddenly spoke. "Margaret tells me, Mr. Thornton, that you are a manufacturer. Indeed, she says you run one of the finest mills in Milton." His almost-innocent words caused a profound flush to spread over his sister's face as she widened her eyes at this repeated praise. How her brother enjoyed provoking her! She looked shyly at Mr. Thornton to see him now smirking at her discomfiture.

Her father, however, took the words at face value and spoke his own admiration of Mr. Thornton's business practices. Embarrassed by the tribute, he was quick to turn the discussion to matters of general business and the various factories found in Milton. Margaret was able to recover her usual color and participated just as openly as ever. It did not escape her or Mr. Thornton's notice that Frederick was making efforts to know him. However, she knew of Frederick's privileged information, while Mr. Thornton could only guess at his motives.

"You are clearly very proud of the business you have built up here," Frederick observed after some conversation. "You speak so well of it, and are naturally comfortable using the necessary terms. I am learning of trade myself in my new position, so I suppose some day I will be at ease with using such language."

Margaret smiled softly. "Then perhaps it is good that you are so far away. We should not know you if you spoke like a manufacturer around us."

"The acquisition of that knowledge and speech comes much faster than you think it will, when you immerse yourself in it daily," Mr. Thornton said. "Just take care that you restrain yourself from using it too much around those far more genteel and civilized," he pointedly said with a smirk directed at Margaret and Mr. Hale. She smothered a chuckle and Mr. Hale acknowledged the hit with a nod of his head.

"You know very well, John, that such knowledge filters through to even us scholars. I myself have been caught at using your factory slang, and if I recall, Margaret has, as well."

"Yes, that is true. Mother once accused me of becoming quite vulgar by picking up too much of Milton speech. I could not think of another word for _knobstick_, however, and why should I have tried when it serves its purpose quite well?"

"Your mother was desirous that you remain a well-bred lady, that is all," Mr. Hale replied quietly, and Margaret's smile disappeared in the thought of her mother and the implied rebuke in her father's words.

Mr. Thornton sobered quickly at the drop of her head, knowing that she would feel chastised from the innocent statement, but he could not find the words to properly lift her spirits. His natural instinct was to go to her and wrap her in his arms, but such an act in front of her family was unthinkable. He was grateful when her brother spoke up, his tone more gentle and thoughtful.

"Dear Mother," he murmured, his smile tinged with sadness. "She encouraged us so much to be the ideals of goodness." Margaret still did not look up. "Do you remember, Margaret, how often she would read from _The Children of the New Forest_? She was so eager for us to become proper grown-ups."

Margaret now smiled again at the recollection. "And she was always sure to point out how we must follow the examples of Edward and Alice, simply because we were also from the New Forest."

"Yes," Mr. Hale spoke once more. "It was very hard on her, having to leave Helstone. It was . . ." he could not finish his thought, as tears began to fall upon his cheek. What pain he had put his wife and child through; what responsibility he must bear for bringing his wife to Milton and a swifter end. That bitter sting would never leave him, and his guilt would never allow him to recover. He did not deserve any peace.

Margaret knew what thoughts tormented her poor father, and her heart broke again to see his misery. She nearly sprang from her seat to go to him, but Frederick was quicker. He rose at once from his seat and placed his hand on his father's shoulder. "Father," he said quietly. Mr. Hale shook his head, as though trying to ward off any attempts at comfort. "Father," Frederick spoke more firmly. "Mother . . . Mother loved you, and was willing to follow you. None of us could know what would happen, and you did what you thought best."

Mr. Hale stood quickly, throwing his son's hand away. "It is no use, Fred. I know what I have done." He shook his head again, trying to stop the tears. "It is no use," he repeated, quieter.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, as they all looked upon the despairing man. Indeed, in the dim light and his feeble stature, he hunched more like a lost boy than a man past his prime. But Margaret saw in his eyes the weariness of hundreds of years, so much had he abandoned himself to sorrow and grieving. How could she begrudge him his suffering, though? No matter the choices he had made, there was no doubt he loved his wife.

But what a reminder she had now of her own sadness, a sadness she had not been allowed to give way to. As much sympathy as she felt for her father, she felt overburdened by the tears she had not yet shed, the grief she had not expressed. And now it was building up and threatening to engulf her once more, and she fought desperately to hold it back. Her father could not bear to see her shed a single tear; she had to be strong before him.

Mr. Hale himself broke the silence as he moved toward the doorway. "I am grateful, John, that you came again so soon, but I'm afraid you chose a poor time. I am sorry." Mr. Thornton stood, as well, but was prevented from saying anything before Mr. Hale apologized again and disappeared into the hall.

The drawing room now felt strangely empty with Mr. Hale's departure. Mr. Thornton was unsure of what to do. He looked down at Margaret, whose face was turned toward the fire. Was that a tear splashing, alone, onto her cheek? Would she not turn to him? What could he do? He looked at her brother, who bowed his head to the floor. What could he possibly say after witnessing such a private moment?

Frederick raised his head and looked Mr. Thornton in the eye. His brow was furrowed in pain, but he did not give way to tears. He looked down at his sister and then immediately back to Mr. Thornton. Mr. Thornton swallowed in surprise. The implied message in Frederick Hale's gesture was clear. He wanted his sister to be comforted, and he knew Mr. Thornton was the man to do it. Without a word, Frederick nodded at him before striding into the hallway and down the stairs.

There would be time later for him to feel surprise at Frederick Hale's behavior. Now her brother was gone, she had the pressing need, and Mr. Thornton would not give another thought beyond giving her whatever solace she required. In an instant, he was sitting next to her and pulling her to face him. Her gaze had remained on the floor for some time, and he carefully lifted her chin with his hand.

She raised her eyes to him as his hand lingered on her face, caressing her cheek. He would not disturb the silence by speaking, and he could only hope that she saw his sympathy, even blinded by the tears that now filled her eyes. Finally, with a sob, she hurled herself into his chest, the tears falling freely. She clutched at his coat as she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her and stroking her hair.

Now she had begun, Margaret felt her sobs would never cease. She could comprehend little but her grief. Mr. Thornton's gentle caresses were lost to her, and the tumbling weight of her loneliness and burden were all she knew. She did not realize how desperately she clung to him as she spent her strength in tears.

But time passed away and exhaustion was soon to follow her emotional exertion. She felt spent and weary, the deep springs from which her tears came drying up. And as she calmed, she remembered the man who held her so close. His chest against her hands felt firm and warm, his arms around her were secure. He spoke nothing, but she could sense his breath upon her hair, his lips on her brow. He asked nothing, but gave everything. How had she survived this sorrowful time without him? Her clutching grasp on his coat relaxed as she gave in fully to the feel of him, quietly letting him hold her in that tender way she craved even in her dreams. She felt traitorous for allowing her senses to be filled so completely by him when she should be thinking only of her mother, but that feeling was only fleeting as she burrowed closer to him.

He could feel the change in her body against him, and now that her cries were gone, he was too selfish a being to relinquish her. It was too precious, too delicious, to keep her, and he was reluctant to remind her of the initial motive that drove her into his arms. She would recall it soon enough. Slowly, he brought a hand to her face, taking her chin gently and lifting her eyes to his. Once he was sure he held her gaze, his hand stroked her cheek absently. Her eyes were bright and shining in the reflected firelight, and he was afraid to speak for fear of shattering the peace that had come upon them, of breaking the spell that brought her so near.

For she was near. Her lips were so tantalizingly close that his desire for her betrayed itself in the way his eyes flicked down to her mouth. He would not, he must not! take advantage of her vulnerability. Not now, when she was enduring such a terrible loss. It would be utterly despicable of him to elevate his affection over her need. Yes, even though she drew close, it was unthinkable. Even though her hands slipped past his shoulders, he needed to resist. Even though her eyes were closed in anticipation . . . Hang it all, there was only so much temptation a man could take. She offered herself, and he would not deny giving himself in return.

He was a hair's-breadth away from her when she abruptly placed a hand to his chest. "Wait," she whispered.

The spell that had drawn them close together was broken, but the air was still warm and intense as he furrowed his brow in confusion at her. She knew what she had been inviting him to do, and for her to stop him so suddenly had taken a great deal of control. But this was her chance. She had consciousness enough to remember the promise she had made to her mother, and she would no longer delay his knowing her feelings. As he gazed at her in silent wonder, she wished she were more eloquent. If only she could truly express how much he meant to her. She gave an airy and embarrassed chuckle as she dropped her head, gathering her courage for a moment.

A moment was all she needed. She lifted her head again, her eyes full of determination. "I love you."

Immediately his confusion cleared into astonishment, and then delight. She smiled at the sight of his dawning comprehension, that she had finally said those simple words. Those simple, tender, thrilling words.

In the end, there was no eloquence needed. No grand declarations or overwrought speeches. Her assurances were enough, and when his voice returned to him, he was quick to reply in kind. She closed her eyes in contentment as he covered her hands and face in kisses. And when he lingered on her lips, she felt a flood of happiness wash over her that she had never imagined possible.

He drew away from her only long enough to ask a question and receive a favorable answer, a short exchange but one that increased their happiness a great deal. Once the words were uttered, they returned to their previous occupation with zeal and devotion.

Long after their chaste passion was at an end, they sat in a tender embrace, watching the fire in silence and wonder.

He feared to break the peace, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What possessed you to confess to me at such a moment? Do not misunderstand me, I am very happy. But I was willing to wait until your mother was laid to rest. Longer, if need be."

She smiled gently and looked up at him. "It was precisely because of my mother that I wanted to tell you. She asked me to not put off my happiness, and the thought of being your wife _is_ my happiness."

After such another heavenly confession, he could not resist drawing her to him once more. "Do you think she would have approved of your choice?" he whispered against her mouth.

"Of course," she responded so emphatically that he backed away from her in surprise. She laughed softly. "It so happens that my mother approved of you greatly. She was not as blind to us as I thought she had been. She knew I loved you before I did. She knew that marrying you would make me happy, and she . . . encouraged me to make my feelings known as soon as possible. I am only sorry I was not able to tell you before Frederick arrived."

Surprised and deeply gratified by the late Mrs. Hale's approval, he held Margaret's hands tightly. "Well, you have told me now, and that is all that matters. I could not wish for anything else."

Her smile tempted him to once more pull her close, but a theatrical cough pierced their fog. Margaret jumped away from him, her face flushing crimson, and he pulled his gaze away from her to the doorway where her brother now stood. It took every ounce of fortitude to not glare daggers at the intrusive young man. Had he not left the two of them alone for a reason? Yet there was no apology in the young Hale's manner as he spoke.

"Margaret, it's late. Perhaps we should allow Mr. Thornton to go home." He spoke awkwardly, but with a hint of a smile that showed he was privy to much more of their conversation than they had realized. "I'm sure he can return again tomorrow."

Although she could read Mr. Thornton's mood and was mortified to be caught by her brother, she knew that Frederick had left them alone for long enough. His manner of interruption left something to be desired, but it was right. She placed a hand on Mr. Thornton's arm and said, "Yes, of course. You will come tomorrow?"

He seemed to read her thoughts at a glance, his desire to pummel Frederick Hale dying away to a resigned disappointment. Now that she was his, he did not want to be away from her. But it was late, and even lovers need sleep.

He rose silently and approached the young man. Now he was close to him, he was inwardly pleased to detect the slightest trace of fear in the young man's eyes. Good, so he knew how much cause Mr. Thornton had to be displeased. But Frederick Hale stood firm and with that slight smirk on his face that spoke of his good humor and knowledge, and Mr. Thornton had to be satisfied with heaving a sigh and reaching out a hand to him. Frederick's smirk gave way to a real smile as he took his hand heartily. "I am sorry to be the cause of your parting, Mr. Thornton, but I am tremendously glad for what seems to have preceded it."

He could not stop a grin from gracing his own features as he looked back to his beloved, who was now ducking her head in embarrassment. "Indeed, Mr. Hale, you could not be more glad than I. I will see you tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," was the simple reply.

He gave a final glance to Margaret, who had lifted her head up again. "Good night, Miss Hale."

Before she had a chance to respond, Frederick spoke up indignantly. "Surely you don't still need to call her that in company, Mr. Thornton! 'Margaret' will do quite nicely, as I'm sure she has not been used to such formality from you for quite some time."

"Fred!" she cried out in shock.

"Am I wrong?" he asked pointedly.

Her face grew red again, and Mr. Thornton was ultimately pleased to know that her brother seemed to approve of him, as well. "No, you are not wrong, Mr. Hale. Good night, Margaret."

She summoned enough resolve to speak through her blush and replied, "Good night, John."

He could not give away in front of her brother how startled he was to hear his name from her lips for the first time, so with a final nod to them both, he hurried his way down the stairs. But the walk home in the dark seemed nothing to him as his heart danced within his chest at the sound of it. At long last, she was his.

* * *

A/N: Ah, just writing that made me happy. How sappy am I? Still a little bit to go, but see? Less angst. Okay, now to the actual purpose of my author's note: The book referred to, _The Children of the New Forest_, is real. Children's books up to that point in time were pretty pedantic, full of lessons for children to follow, nothing of a fantastic nature, like what would come with _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ or anything similar. However, _The Children of the New Forest_ was one of the first historical novels written for children, and was one of the novels that first started making that shift in children's literature to something that could be called a little more entertaining rather than merely instructive. It was published in 1847, so in strict chronological terms, Margaret Hale would not have been a child when it was published, so she and her brother really wouldn't have reminisced about it (if they were real, of course). But I found it too irresistible to not include, considering the serendipitous title about the New Forest and how much that area was a part of Margaret's life.


	4. An Insistent Mother

Mrs. Thornton was a proud woman. And to her mind, she was so with good reason. After her husband's untimely death, she had been left with two children and a mountain of debt. But not once had she bowed and scraped to another person for their charity. She had risen to the task of caring for her children on practically nothing, and she felt stronger for the hardship. She had been right to depend on herself.

She also knew she had done right in the way her son had accepted his responsibilities, of leaving school and taking work with nary a complaint. She had clearly fulfilled her duty as a mother if her son knew what was right by his family. In addition to the meager payment he brought home each week, he offered her his confidence, and she was eager to promote and encourage his ambition. With such a son, was it any wonder she clung to him as she did? As he grew and progressed, he became the man she wished her departed husband had been.

So there had been no reason for her to change herself or her ways, not when the manner in which she lived was rewarded by such good fortune and prosperity from her son's profession. Her judgments and prejudices toward others, such as high-minded parson's daughters, were only right. Never before had she cause to doubt that.

But once her ire had subsided after her argument with her son the day before, she was forced to confront a hard truth. Either she must change herself and do something to accept _that girl_ in her life, or she would lose her son. Not that he would abandon her with nothing, but she would certainly lose the love that was so valuable to her if she continued in such a way.

He had arrived home very late the night before, so late that she had retired to bed long before his return. However, she was determined to see him before he left the house again. She was up early and awaited his entrance into the dining room, anxious fingers tapping rapidly on the table.

After what seemed like an eternity, although it was earlier than she expected, he came. She barely registered the buoyancy in his step or the lightness of his shoulders before she spoke.

"John?" He turned to her. "I presume you will be visiting the Hales again today?"

A secret shine came into his eyes as he replied, "Yes, Mother, I will. In fact –"

"Then I wish to join you," she barreled over him, not wanting to hesitate. If she put off stating her resolve, she might lose her nerve. His smile altered quickly into an expression of surprise. "You were right yesterday. Miss Hale does need some female companionship, and I suppose if you persist in your habits, she will one day be very closely connected to me."

He smiled again. "Yes, Mother. Indeed –"

But she would not let him finish. "I have not made any effort to know her, after all, and she must be suffering at the loss of her mother. I am ill-qualified to give her the kindness I suppose Mrs. Hale wished for her," she admitted stiffly. "But for your sake, John, I will try."

There was silence as he considered her words. But it was with a gentle and understanding voice that he replied. "Mother, I think I know how difficult it is for you to admit a fault, so I am very grateful that you would make such an offer. Especially as you have doubted Margaret's affection for me."

She sat silently, still waiting for his agreement to her proposal.

"I hope you will not doubt her any longer. She has consented to be my wife," he said with a triumphant smirk.

Completely unprepared, her mind reeled and her body shook. "What? When?" she demanded.

As though there could have been another time. "Last night."

"You are not serious, John! At such a time for her family, she is accepting proposals?"

He sighed. "Is there no pleasing you? Just yesterday you were complaining that she had not yet accepted me."

She spluttered at the soft rebuke. "Well, I certainly didn't expect her to take you when her mother has yet to be put in the ground!"

His eyes now grew hard, and she could tell by the purse of his lips that he was restraining himself from bursting out in anger. She had gone too far. She must not lose him. Instantly she cooled her tone and spoke more quietly.

"Forgive me, John. I am only surprised," she said in a placating voice. To her relief, the stern look in his eye softened. "But you must admit it is rather an odd time, given the current situation."

Odd, indeed! She could think of more choice words for the occasion. But she would continue to bite her tongue.

Looking a little mollified at her sudden change, he nodded. "I concede the point, Mother, but it does not change our current understanding. If you knew all the circumstances, perhaps you would not find the timing so inappropriate."

"All the circumstances?" she repeated.

He winced, as though reminding himself of something, but he continued smoothly. "Yes. It seems that some of Mrs. Hale's final words to Margaret were counsel for her to accept me. And as soon as possible. Would you have Margaret defy her mother's last wishes?"

She took a breath, in need still of calming her nerves and shock. "No, I would not."

"And she has not. And it is true. Margaret has agreed to marry me." Any attempt he made to speak with sternness to emphasize the veracity of his statement was for naught, for he was positively gleeful that she was his.

She nodded. "Well, then, it is all the more appropriate that I call on Miss Hale. Today."

Why did he hesitate? "Mother, I do not know that –"

"I insist, John," she interrupted once more. "I will not have you accusing me of not knowing her and then blocking my efforts to make amends. I will accompany you to the Hales' today."

What was going through his mind as he stared, absently chewing the inside of his lower lip? Whatever it was, he did not tell her. He only sighed and said reluctantly, "Very well."

That would have to do.

* * *

It was clear that Dixon was surprised by Mrs. Thornton's presence on the doorstep later that morning, but she said nothing of it as she allowed mother and son entry into the house. Mr. Thornton felt more than a little ill at ease when in the company of the two women, and was quick to explain himself to Dixon.

"My mother has expressed a wish to visit with Miss Hale, Dixon," he faltered at the use of the servant's name, unsure if he was allowed to address her so. She had certainly never given him permission. It was done, however, and he continued. "Would you inform her we are waiting in the study?"

Dixon agreed and made her way up the stairs as he ushered his mother into the study. Mrs. Thornton's astonishment at such an affront was obvious.

"The study, John? Am I so low that I cannot be allowed in the drawing room like a proper guest?"

"Please, Mother," he admonished. "The house is still in mourning, and I don't want to disrupt it more than I already have." Indeed, he had caused a great amount of disruption the last few days, and a great deal more the night before. Enough that he had forgotten for several glorious minutes Mrs. Hale's passing.

She quirked her lips in disapproval. "I still do not know why I should not be seen up-" she stopped abruptly as the door opened and Margaret appeared.

Her somber face brightened on seeing him, but any excessive joy was muted by the presence of Mrs. Thornton. His mother made her shy, and she did not know how to properly greet her betrothed in company. She settled for reaching out a hand to him. "Good morning, John."

His name once more! He took her hand gladly and with a great deal of warmth. "Good morning, Margaret. My mother insisted on accompanying me today, especially in light of our engagement."

Her smile deepened and she turned with outstretched hand to her future mother-in-law. "Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Thornton. It was so kind of you."

He breathed an inward sigh of relief. So Margaret was not angry he had brought his mother into the house. He had been afraid of her displeasure that he would risk her brother in such a way. Shuttering Mrs. Thornton away in the study so quickly was the only solution he could hit upon to keep Frederick undetected.

Mrs. Thornton took Margaret's hand stiffly, but without hesitation. "I felt it my duty to call on you, Miss Hale, for your mother's sake."

Margaret nodded soberly. "Yes, I understand. I am still grateful. John?" She inclined her head in his direction. "My father is in the drawing room and would be glad of your company."

Thankful for the dismissal, he quickly exited the room. True, he was exceedingly curious about the conversation between Margaret and his mother, but he was also afraid to be witness to it. His mother's purpose was kind, but her manner differed so greatly from Margaret's, he was unsure that any sympathy or well-wishes would be sincerely expressed or felt by either party.

To his surprise, Mr. Hale was not in the drawing room, but his son was. But of course, he thought, Margaret could hardly tell him that the man who expected him was her brother. And it was clear that Frederick Hale expected him, to judge by the disapproving lift of his eyes. This irritation was exactly what Mr. Thornton had been prepared for.

"I see you have already taken advantage of my good wishes, Mr. Thornton," Frederick began. His voice was not angry, but wary. "I did not think you would wish to test my approval of you in such a dangerous way."

"I assure you, Mr. Hale, that even were my mother aware of your existence, you would be in no danger. She would be as unlikely to give you up as I would. I promise you that. As it is, I have said nothing of you, and she would not let me keep her from calling on Margaret. Surely you can understand her reasons for such a visit?"

"Yes, but I question the wisdom of allowing it."

Mr. Thornton sighed. "When it comes to my mother making an effort with Margaret, I suppose that my wish for their eventual friendship overrides any wisdom I might have exercised."

Frederick's wariness turned into confusion. "What do you mean? Your mother does not approve of Margaret?"

He chose his words cautiously. "They are very similar in some ways, but my mother has had so little opportunity to truly know Margaret's character that she only acknowledges their differences. And I cannot say she is welcoming of those very different to her."

The scrutinizing look from the night before had returned. "I see."

There was another moment of silence and tension on Mr. Thornton's part, but soon enough Frederick sighed and invited him to sit. Apparently the young man had decided that there was nothing else to be done for the situation at hand and he might as well accept Mrs. Thornton's presence in the house.

"Where is Mr. Hale?" Mr. Thornton asked upon settling himself in a chair.

"He is with Mother. The funeral being tomorrow, there are final preparations and he will not have another opportunity to be with her. I doubt he will come down, even for you."

"I understand."

More silence. Mr. Thornton had hoped that Frederick's approval the night before might be a help to their speaking more comfortably, but bringing his mother had only succeeded in restoring the natural awkwardness of the present circumstances. There were only uncomfortable topics coming to mind as he cast about for something to say.

"How long will you stay in Milton?"

"I don't know. I was hoping for a week, but I may change my mind. At least the funeral is tomorrow."

"And you are planning on attending?" Mr. Thornton asked in surprise.

"Of course. Why would I not?"

"Forgive me, but is that wise? You are safe here in the house because you are concealed. You do not know who could see you and what could happen if you took the risk of going to the funeral."

"I suppose I should not be a support to my father at such a time?" A hint of anger was in his voice.

The last thing he wanted with Margaret's brother was an argument, but reason must be laid out, even if Frederick Hale chose to ignore it. "And what kind of talk would that create? As far as anybody here knows, the Hales have few friends and no family near. Would others not be curious as to who a stranger with your father is? Would they not ask awkward questions?"

This piercing line of questioning seemed to subdue Frederick's anger and he now looked pensive.

"Do you truly want to take that gamble on your life? Furthermore, do you want to subject your family to such speculation? You can be a greater support to them if you remain here, if they do not have added worries about you."

Frederick's head was bowed to the floor.

"You do deserve to pay the proper respects to your mother, Mr. Hale. I do not mean to imply that you do not. It cannot be easy for you to have to hide and be prevented from doing what must be natural to you. But you have already endangered yourself for your mother's sake so that she could see you. She would not ask you to risk yourself further by going out among people you know nothing of."

He lifted his face. "I know nothing of you, Mr. Thornton. Very little, at least."

"On the contrary, Mr. Hale. You know a great deal. You know that I love Margaret."

This final point effectively silenced Frederick. He sat back with a look of amazement and concession. If there was nothing else he knew about this daunting northern manufacturer, he did know of this man's feelings for his sister. Those feelings gave him a natural and overwhelming desire to protect her and her family. And that knowledge was enough for Frederick Hale, even if he never learned another thing about John Thornton. He nodded.

"And Margaret loves you," he finally spoke in reply.

Mr. Thornton gave a rueful half-smile. "Yes, as unbelievable as it may be, she does. One day I will have to ask why."

"Oh, she has her reasons, believe me," he responded as only a long-suffering brother would. "She decided to remind me of them in detail last night after you left, no doubt as punishment for interrupting you as I did."

He breathed a noiseless chuckle and smiled at the image of Margaret haranguing her brother, only too delighted to keep him from his rest. He was pleased that she would take such an elegant form of revenge. But another stern, intimidating voice suddenly broke into the conversation, shocking him at once out of his amusement.

"And she just finished reciting those reasons to me, so I ask you not to repeat them just now."

Both men whipped around in their seats to see Mrs. Thornton framed in the doorway, and standing in her shadow, looking defiant, pleased, and a little guilty, was Margaret.

* * *

Ha! Bet you didn't see that coming. After I wrote myself into a corner with John's argument with his mother, I thought, "Well, I guess I'll have to make her visit Margaret" to truly make this an angst-free version. And then that included letting Mrs. Thornton in on the Fred secret once she was in the house. Totally wasn't planning on that happening, but oh well. And I have no idea how that conversation between Mrs. Thornton and Margaret would go, so you will not be reading it. Sorry! But even though it wasn't planned, I still love the image of Mrs. Thornton suddenly appearing and scaring the boys.


End file.
